


Fuckin Fairytales

by Destructivedepravities



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Arranged Marriage, IT'S LIKE DISNEY, Idk what they do, It's a fucking fairy tale, Kings & Queens, Pretend they fuckin sing, Princes & Princesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destructivedepravities/pseuds/Destructivedepravities
Summary: Princess-like characters, princes, and other shits too. Noice.





	1. It's-- She's like a princess. . .

Charlie sighed, as her hair was braided to the back of her scalp, exposing her pale face.

"I know you're unhappy, honey, but it's for the better," Henry murmured sadly. 

They had her fitted in armour, slipping her dress over it. Blue. Royal blue, to be specific. She dusted her small hands on the dress, shaking her head. She understood why this had to be done, but it didn't make her any less mad.

She sat next to Henry, waiting. 

There he was.

The purple king himself. 

She thought the rumors were false.

No, no. He was as terrifying as they said he was. He was thin, robed in dark purples, his hair pulled back tighter than hers was.

She swallowed, holding back an amused chuckle at his son. Purple and crimson decorated his large frame, but he just looked so.  . . 

So. . . 

So  _awkward._

But there was a third person. 

She felt her lungs tighten at the sight of her.

She felt like a child compared to her. Her regal red curls hung loosely, touching her shoulders. Her dress was red and purple, just like her brother's.

She looked around, wiping her gloved hands on the velvet of the dress.

 "Hello, King Henry," the smooth voice nearly purred, sending an unpleasant jolt up her spine that she struggled to suppress, going stiff.

Henry motioned Charlie to stand, and she did so, a little too quickly. She almost cringed, before walking as gracefully as she could to the three. She curtsied politely.

"I'm Charlotte," she managed to choke out, nearly stuttering.

The young man walked forward, taking the girl's hand. She felt his dry lips on her smooth hand, swallowing. 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, lovely Charlotte."

She sucked in a breath, pulling her hand away as he stepped back, trying to wink coyly. She didn't notice. She was looking at the girl, walking forward with truly graceful steps, her eyes as green as hellfire, or maybe a poison. She settled on witches brew, an enchanting witches brew.

She curtsied, keeping her eyes on Charlotte.

"Greetings, your royal highnesses. I am Blaire Fritzi Afton the second."

Her voice was like a gorgeous flame, so beautiful yet laced with impending danger to come. Charlie knew she was bad but she just looked so good. 

"Alright, girls, go into the garden whilst the men talk," the purple king said.

Charlotte could only find herself nodding and going to the garden. But she could smell the thick scent of iron and lilies behind her. She stopped, glancing behind her. 

"Oh, uh, hello, Blaire. . . Fritz. . . The uh. . ."

Blaire laughed. It was a free, gentle laugh. Like the breeze that lazily tries to steal the sheets hanging on the line. 

"It's just Blaire," she said softly, pulling her hair back slightly.

Charlotte felt as though her face were aflame, watching as Blaire plucked a single red rose from the Bush. She began to easily pull off the thorns, before handing the rose to her.

"You're quite beautiful, I must say."

"So are you!" Charlotte suddenly yelped, before gasping at the beautiful laugh that sounded once again.

"Thank you, Charlotte."

Soon, a grinning purple man stepped out into the garden.

"Blaire, we have to go."

 


	2. Where did she go?

The awkward Prince kept visiting, bringing gifts of all kinds. Charlie tried to get along with him, she really did, and she did a fair job pretending, but it was so hard to mask who she really wanted.

The young girl would wink at her, bring gifts, and when "the men were talking", she would bring picnics. Everything was well.

It was all fine.

Blaire was there.

 Until the Prince came, bearing the same old gifts, though he was crying. He lamented that he would no longer court Charlie, as he was needed at the kingdom after Blaire's disappearance. 

Charlie was quite saddened by this, and returned sadly to her father, reporting the news. The old, sick king chuckled.

"What was I thinking..."

Charlie tilted her head.

"You don't need a prince, you can manage this kingdom by yourself."

The young girl nodded, stiffly smiling. She didn't like the sound of that. 


End file.
